


Dreaming of Crimson Rain and the Fragrance of White Plum Blossoms

by WaterDarkE



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 04:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterDarkE/pseuds/WaterDarkE
Summary: A free-form fic of Kenshin's past from the perspective of his former wife and lover, Tomoe.





	Dreaming of Crimson Rain and the Fragrance of White Plum Blossoms

Rain continues to fall, pitter pattering on the top of my umbrella. I walk in a drunken reverie. Only a mask for my tormented emotions, towards the man who killed my fiance. My childhood friend, the one I loved. Even now, I wear a mask for my grief.

I keep walking, even in the dark of night. In the dangerous streets of Kyoto, where the scent of blood seeps through the stones. Even among the scent of water and rain.

Yet, I hear the clash of steel, and I see him. Fiery red hair, a scar on his left cheek. The Battousai. 

With a splatter, I become dyed in crimson.

”You really did make blood colored rain fall.”

He gasps in shock, and notice him slowly release the sword from his hands. And I see the torment in his eyes.

* * *

I thought my life would be over in an instant. Yet, he spared me. And I noticed that the Battousai, or Kenshin, was not simply a murderer.

For his young age, he was only a young boy, younger than myself by a few years. He did not read books, and probably didn’t know how to read. In quiet times, he spun a small top that moved around on the ground. Was is a memento? I didn't know. Yet, he didn’t seem to have had a childhood, as there is a hardness in his eyes.

When he slept, he always carried his katana with him. At an instant, he would be awake. But even when I was nearby, he would never ask for anything. He would never touch me unless if it was absolutely necessary.

In essence, he truly was a kind young boy, forced to grow up in a time of turbulence.

He did not kill people out of pleasure. But rather, for the noble cause he was tasked with. To end the Shogunate, and change the era. With every kill, every move, deciding the lives and the fates of others. He was no god. He was a demon who wielded a katana better than anyone else, enough that his opponents couldn’t scream.

Instead, he killed them quickly, and efficiently. So, their suffering would end as quickly as possible, to not have even a second more of torment on their faces. And if their eyes were open in those last moments, he would close them, and offer them a small prayer. An apology for killing these men, all for the task and the cause he was given.

* * *

When I saw him kill again, I knew there was no joy on his face. There never could be joy on his face. As he did not enjoy killing people.

He killed people because he had to. It was as simple as that.

I wonder when… When I fell in love with him. The man who killed my fiance. But outside of killing people, he only offered me kindness. A gentleness not often found in men.

* * *

Our time as a married couple, as fake as it was, was some of the most happy moments I felt.

To wake up, and see him by my side. Gently, he changed.

]Instead of sleeping with his sword, he slept on the futon. In a peace of sorts. An unusual calmness and serenity on his face.

Having been raised as a farmer’s boy, he remembered how to grow crops. With his hands, and without complaints, he toiled the land, as it bore fruit.

Almost every day, we went to town to sell medicine. To children, to men, to women, to the elderly, to everyone, we sold medicine to calm their ailments. During the quiet hours, he would grind the medicine and the herbs himself, not wanting me to dirty my hands. And also, so our responsibilities were as equal as possible.

During every month, when my pains were at its worst, he noticed me leave to the local outhouse. One day, he told me to instead stay, and he would help. Didn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

He brewed herbal tea to calm my nerves. He made sure I took pain medication every day so it would be less painful. He cleaned my soiled clothes himself, not minding the scent of blood. It was nothing, he said. If I had trouble sleeping, he would boil water on the side, and gave me extra blankets. Or would heat up warm stones to place near my bed.

He really was a gentle man. Truly. If he was born in a different life, in a different age, I’m sure he could have become great at anything. At medicine. As a farmer. As a person who helped others. Instead of becoming a murderer. A hitokiri.

That was the sort of man he is.

* * *

In spring, cherry blossoms fell. As we traveled, he bought me a mirror as a way of helping me see myself go through my daily routine. He noticed my lipstick, and the fragrance I enjoy wearing. Of plum blossoms.  

In the summer, as the buzzing of cicadas filled the air, we drank sake together, enjoying the luminous glow of the harvest moon.

In the fall, rain fell in torrents. But he always carried an umbrella to shield me from the droplets.

In the winter, snow fell. And for warmth, we huddled together by the warm fire. I still can remember his scent, his touch, the warmth in his eyes. His hands gave me comfort in those darkest nights.

* * *

”I will protect you.

”I will kill, but only to bring about a new era. Afterwards, I want us to live together. Because you taught me the true meaning of peace, the true meaning of joy. The true meaning of happiness, Tomoe.”

When he took away my first happiness, he replaced it with one just as beautiful.

Goodbye, my second love. Maybe in another life, we can live in the era you will bring. A time of peace where you never will kill again.

* * *

I lived peacefully in heaven. Having spent years atoning for my sins, I found myself enjoying the sights. Of rabbits. Of fragrant flowers. Of a clear blue sky. Of a world where there is no bloodshed. But, you are not here.

I sat on a bench, enjoying the sun. But, oddly enough, I saw a familiar figure, and tears filled my eyes.

Of a young man, with crimson hair, and a cross shaped scar on his left cheek. As he saw me, he smiled, and I ran to him. The scent of the earth, of herbs, of a warmth I had yearned for. I breathed in this scent I missed, and felt his hands on my back.

”I missed you, Kenshin.” I couldn’t stop a smile from covering my face.

”I did too, Tomoe.” Hearing his smooth, soft voice in my ear, nearly made my limbs give way.

He is finally with me, my beloved Kenshin. The young boy who became a man, and carved a way into a new era with his sword. Before giving it up, to end the killing, and replacing it with the original meaning of his swordsmanship.

To protect those in need. To protect the weak. And to protect those who are dear to him.

* * *

Rain falls, but no longer is there a scent of blood. As the era is one of peace.

After blood covered the land, bombs covered the earth. After we repent for the sins of the past.

The world has changed.

Yet, a young woman smelling like plum blossoms, gently, hand in hand, was with a young man with crimson hair. Together, they smiled, as the red haired man held an umbrella for his beloved. Keeping them dry in the rain.

As they would greet a new age together.


End file.
